passing no gates

telling the truth may always be bizarre
we have to do it with the proper flair
not every waggon's hitched up to a star

we do not dream the magical bazaar
where visions are conjured from empty air
telling the truth may always be bizarre

not all our music suits the large guitar
our eyes must be adjusted to the glare
not every waggon's hitched up to a star

no one has drowned beyond the harbour bar
who had not told us it was just unfair
telling the truth may always be bizarre

we see the mirage coming from afar
since in the emptiness we needs must stare
not every waggon's hitched up to a star

harsh ages and the weather cannot mar
the ones who truly learn to love and care
telling the truth may always be bizarre
not every waggon's hitched up to a star